The next morning, Simi arrived at Ibara’s workshop carrying a notebook full of suggestions.
Khepri was already there. He had rearranged the suspended platform and was attempting to fit a new system of lateral restraints into its frame. Ibara stood beside him, guiding a narrow bronze component into position. Simi watched for a moment. Then she cleared her throat.
“Khepri.”
He looked up.
“Simi!”
She held out her notebook.
“I’ve been thinking about your carrier.”
His face brightened.
“Come and look at the restraint. It still swings if I turn too sharply.”
He started explaining the suspension. Simi let him finish one point before interrupting.
“How do you get someone onto it?”
Khepri stopped.
“What?”
“The carrier. How do you place a patient inside without moving them unnecessarily?”
He indicated the platform.
“From the side.”
“How?”
“By lifting them.”
“Where do the bearers stand?”
He gestured vaguely. Simi opened her notebook.
“Show me where the bearers are meant to stand.”
Khepri narrowed his eyes.
“What have you done?”
“Spoken to Tàlé.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s a physician.”
“I know that.”
“And because the people using your machine need to be able to work around it.”
She unfolded a drawing of his carrier. One side of the frame had been altered: a section of the supporting rail could move out of the way, allowing attendants to reach a patient while the frame remained secured. He leaned closer.
“That’s interesting.”
“I thought so.”
“How would you lock it?”
“I was hoping you’d work that out.”
He grinned. Ibara approached.
“Let me see.”
Simi handed her the drawing. The craftswoman examined it carefully. Then she asked, “What happens if someone releases this while the carrier is being lifted?” Simi hesitated.
“That would be dangerous.”
“Very.”
Khepri put a finger against the lower support.
“What if it couldn’t release while the handles were under load?”
Ibara studied the proposed locking point.
“How?”
He considered the mechanism. Then he picked up a small hinge.
“If the locking pin shifts into place when the handles are raised, it could prevent the side rail from opening.”
Simi leaned forward.
“And when the carrier is resting?”
“The handles lower. The pin can be released.”
Ibara studied the suggestion.
“It would need a deliberate release mechanism. We don’t want it opening accidentally because someone puts the handles down.”
Khepri nodded.
“Two actions, then.”
He took the notebook.
“A retaining catch and a release.”
Simi smiled.
“Would that work?”
“Possibly.”
Khepri waited for Ibara’s verdict. She studied the drawing.
“We can make a test version.”
Khepri grinned. Then Simi turned another page.
“There’s more.”
His smile faded.
“How much more?”
“Several things.”
She began explaining. The carrier needed positions where bearers could grip it securely. Its supports should not obstruct access to a patient’s arms or chest. Any fastening straps had to be adjustable and appropriate for the patient’s condition. Certain injuries required specialist support that could not simply be built permanently into one universal design. And the carrier’s width mattered. Khepri frowned.
“What about the width?”
Simi indicated the doorway of Ibara’s workshop.
“Would it fit through that?”
He glanced at the frame. Then at the doorway. Then back at the frame. A long silence followed. Ibara began smiling.
“Don’t,” Khepri warned.
“I haven’t said anything.”
“You don’t need to.”
Simi laughed. She picked up a measuring rod.
“Come on.”
Khepri sighed. They measured the doorway and then the carrier. The frame was only slightly too wide, but it would not pass through. He stared at the measurements.
“That’s inconvenient.”
“With a patient on it, we’d be stuck in the doorway,” Simi replied.
He looked up.
“You’re enjoying this.”
“It’s good we measured the door first.”
He snatched the charcoal from her hand.
“Fine. We’ll change the frame.”
Simi leaned beside him.
“Together.”
He set Simi’s notebook beside his drawings. Her margins were crowded with questions he’d never thought to ask.
“All right.”
He moved the drawings between them. They spent the rest of the morning turning Simi’s observations into drawings and small working parts.
The side rail caused the first argument. Khepri wanted a single release catch that could be operated quickly. Simi wanted to know what would happen if someone’s sleeve snagged it while bearers were carrying the frame.
“It wouldn’t open,” he said.
“How do you know?”
He reached for the prototype catch, stopped, and adjusted the drawing. Ibara gave them a box of damaged fittings to test. By the third version, they had a lock that required one action to disengage a safety catch and another to release the rail. It was less elegant than Khepri’s first design. It was also far harder to open accidentally.
Then Simi asked how the contact surface would be cleaned between patients. Khepri glanced at the fixed fabric platform.
“I’ll invent a cleaner.”
“You could make the fabric removable.”
“Could we put the clips outside the frame?”
They replaced the permanent covering with a fitted layer that attendants could remove without opening the main supports. Ibara insisted they test the fastenings after every adjustment, and the folding mechanism failed twice before she was satisfied with the spacing.
By late afternoon, three different hands had left notes on the drawing. Simi’s narrow annotations crowded Ibara’s measurements, and Khepri had squeezed corrections into the remaining spaces.
Khepri turned the newest drawing over.
“You know, I had a perfectly beautiful design before you arrived.”
“Was it useful?”
“Not nearly as much as it is now.”
Simi rested her elbows on the bench. “That sounded almost like a compliment.”
“It was. The side rail was your idea.”
Ibara examined the final sketch.
“Build a proper test frame,” she said. “Then we’ll see whether all this cleverness survives a real load.”
Khepri picked up his tools. This time, he knew exactly which parts he wanted the others to check first.
* * *
By the following afternoon, a small audience had gathered in the workshop yard. Two apprentices stood beside the marked testing path while several craftspeople waited under the awning. Khepri kept checking his joints instead of looking at them. Aunt Sẹ́ni inspected the carrier as though she expected to find something that needed confiscating.
Physician Tàlé had also come. Simi stood beside him, holding their notes. Ibara emerged from the workshop carrying a small box of measuring instruments.
“Everyone ready?”
Khepri straightened.
“Yes.”
“Talk us through the test.”
He stepped forward. The new carrier rested on two wooden stands. Its outer frame was made from treated hardwood, reinforced with bronze joints at the principal stress points. A suspended platform lay within it, supported by carefully adjusted connections that absorbed limited movement while restraining excessive sideways travel. The folding mechanism was now separate from the supports carrying the load.
Its locks required deliberate release before the frame could collapse. One side could be opened while the carrier rested on stable supports, providing better access for attendants. And, most importantly, it fitted through Ibara’s workshop doorway. Khepri was particularly proud of that final achievement. He chose not to mention it.
“The carrier is designed to reduce unnecessary movement during transport,” he began.
His voice sounded slightly too formal. Simi smiled. He ignored her.
“We’re going to compare it with an ordinary stretcher using the same load and route. Then we’ll test the locking mechanisms, the side access and the folding arrangement.”
Tàlé nodded approvingly.
“And what are you using as a patient?”
Khepri indicated the weighted training figure beside the stands. It was made from padded cloth, jointed wood and carefully distributed sacks of grain. Simi had insisted that its weight be arranged to resemble a person rather than a single heavy object. Ibara had agreed. Khepri had complained that the figure was unnecessarily complicated.
His complaints had stopped once he discovered how differently the carrier behaved under an uneven load. Two apprentices lifted the ordinary stretcher and followed the marked route across packed earth, uneven stones and a narrow turn before returning to the workshop.
A small measuring instrument attached to the training figure recorded the movement reaching the load. The apprentices walked at a controlled pace. When they finished, Ibara checked the results and moved to the new carrier.
“Your turn.”
Khepri swallowed. He remembered the farmer stranded above the crossing, and made himself watch the supports rather than the expectant faces. The apprentices positioned the training figure on the suspended platform. Simi checked the supports. She examined the fastening arrangements, confirmed that the side rail was locked and stepped back. Enjoying the story? Read on at novelping . com.
“Ready.”
Ibara inspected the joints. Then she nodded.
“Lift.”
The apprentices lifted the carrier, and its frame held as they set off along the packed earth. Khepri kept pace beside them, watching the suspended platform settle gently after each step. At the uneven stones, one bearer stepped over a raised edge and sent a jolt through the outer frame; the platform shifted before settling again. Khepri moved closer, eager to see what would happen at the turn.
At the turning point, where his earlier designs had failed, the apprentices slowed and one adjusted his grip. As they carried the frame round, it tilted and the platform slid sideways. Khepri’s stomach tightened, but the lateral restraints engaged before the load reached the edge. The apprentices completed the turn with the training figure secure. He exhaled.
Beside him, Simi grinned.
“That was good.”
He nodded.
“Yes.”
They returned to the workshop. Ibara checked the readings. On the same path and with the same training figure, the new carrier had transmitted less movement than the stretcher. Khepri checked the figures twice, his grin arriving only when he was sure.
“It worked!”
Simi laughed.
“You sound surprised.”
“I’m delighted.”
“You were definitely surprised.”
“I was worried about the turn.”
Aunt Sẹ́ni approached the carrier. She examined the frame. Then the supports. Then Khepri.
“Well.”
He straightened.
“Yes?”
“It’s still standing.”
He stared.
“Auntie.”
“Show me the catches before you celebrate.”
“Here. Two separate releases.”
“Then show me how they work. Slowly.”
Ibara laughed, and Khepri groaned without quite losing his grin. Tàlé moved closer.
“May I examine the side access?”
“Of course,” Simi said.
With the carrier resting securely on its stands, Simi disengaged the two catches and opened the side rail. Tàlé reached in to check access to the training figure’s upper body and reposition the supports. At his request, Simi closed the rail and secured the lock, which he tested himself.
“There’s room for a physician to reach the patient,” Tàlé said.
Khepri beamed. Then the physician addressed Ibara.
“What would happen if one of these suspension connections failed during transport?”
Khepri’s expression changed. Ibara stepped forward.
“The inner platform has a secondary retaining arrangement. It would settle onto fixed supports rather than fall freely. We’ve tested it under load, although we still need further trials before it could be used with patients.”
Tàlé nodded.
“And cleaning?”
Simi answered.
“The contact surface can be removed. We also avoided enclosed joints where dirt and fluids would be difficult to clear.”
Tàlé smiled.
“You’ve thought carefully about it.”
Simi caught Khepri looking at her and gave him a small nod. Tàlé crouched beside the frame.
“One more question. How long does it take to prepare?”
Khepri opened his mouth. Ibara raised a finger.
“Demonstrate it.”
Khepri hesitated, then nodded. The apprentices removed the training figure while Simi released the fastenings. Together, they folded the carrier, secured it and prepared it for storage. At Ibara’s request, they unfolded it again. Khepri hurried, and one locking pin refused to engage until he adjusted the frame and tried again. Tàlé checked the time.
“That will need practice.”
Khepri’s satisfaction dimmed. The carrier had passed its transport test, but the delay in setting it up still needed fixing. Tàlé, however, smiled.
“The frame handles a training load well. Before we carry a patient, we need more trials and a physician’s approval. You’ve built something worth testing.”
Khepri looked up.
“Really?”
“Really.”
His grin returned. Simi elbowed him gently.
“Well done.”
He glanced at her.
“You too.”
She blinked.
“What?”
“You saw what I missed.”
“Of course I did.”
“I know.”
He smiled.
“I meant it.”